


The Innkeeper

by thomasjeffersonsmacaroni



Series: the games [1]
Category: Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 13:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10102373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomasjeffersonsmacaroni/pseuds/thomasjeffersonsmacaroni
Summary: There wasn't always a Jailor in the Town of Salem.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was browsing the ToS game forums, and I came across the Innkeeper role. It was ultimately rejected because it would make the town OP while being pretty much useless itself, but it does make for good story potential.

There wasn't always a Jailor in the Town of Salem. Before that role was an option at that main office, there was another in its place: the Innkeeper. And the first person who chose it was an old woman, a former Vigilante whose eyesight was failing but who still wanted to help the town.

Once she arrived into her first game with this new role, she was given instructions: house two people each night, roleblocking them, shielding them from all attacks and allowing them to talk to each other and you. But the Innkeeper looked at these requirements and scoffed, because she could do so much more.

On the first night, the Innkeeper housed Number Five, who had revealed himself as the Mayor on Day 1, and Number Eight, whose role she didn't know. They sat at the wooden dining table, eating the apple pies that she had baked, drinking milk (the Innkeeper had flatly refused to give them any alcohol), and nodding appreciatively.

"These are good," the Mayor said, smiling at the masked Innkeeper softly. "Aren't they, Eight?"

"Yes, sir," Number Eight mumbled, staring down at his shoes.

"Is there anything else you need from me?" the Innkeeper asked them, leaning against the railing. "I've got cookies in the oven and beds ready upstairs, and I'll fix up breakfast for you tomorrow morning before we leave."

"Nothing for now," the Mayor replied. "But would you two be interested in a game of cards. I have a deck right here. And take off that mask, dear. I think we both know who you are."

"I can't. Rules of the games."

"Ah, well. I can respect that."

The Mayor dealt the cards, and the Innkeeper pulled up a chair and her glasses and flopped down next to them.

"My eyesight is failing," she told the two, "but my cards skills aren't. You boys ready to lose?"

Number Eight smirked, all previous insecurities gone. "I, for one, am _not._ Are _you?"_

For the rest of the night, the trio played, and the Innkeeper learned two things.

First: Number Eight claimed to be the Transporter. And second: his boasts were true, and the Innkeeper joked that she was glad that none of them had thought to bet on money.

They slept in separate beds. And in the morning, true to her words, the Innkeeper baked both the Mayor and the Transporter bacon and eggs before they left to join the town once more.

During the day, the Innkeeper multitasked: she observed the town, using the intuition that she had developed from her years as a Vigilante, to decide whom else to house, and she painstakingly updated her will, squinting even with her glasses on.

She was much too blind to hold a gun. But that wasn't going to stop her from being useful to the town.

 

The next night it was the Mayor and the Sheriff; the night after that it was the Mayor and the Medium. And on Night 4, when the town had eliminated the one-man mafia and was in a frenzy trying to find the Serial Killer, the Innkeeper housed the Mayor and a man who claimed to be the Doctor.

But the Innkeeper watched him, watched the way he shook and seemed to be hiding something in his pocket, and the way he claimed to have healed the Sheriff while he was being housed, and her eyes widened bigger and bigger and bigger as she realized how badly she had messed up.

Oh, if only she had her trusty gun, or a knife, or an axe, or a rope, or _anything!_ But she was unarmed, trapped with a murderer, helpless against him, and tonight would be the night of both her death and that of the Mayor.

Frantically, the Innkeeper made some notes in her will and whispered what she had found to her companion.

"Shit," he whispered back. "Oh, shit, we're dead, aren't we?"

"Write in your will that he's the Serial Killer," the Innkeeper commanded. "We can help the town, if they listen."

The Mayor nodded and wrote it down. Then, before he went up to bed, he pulled the Innkeeper into a tight hug.

"See you on the other side," he murmured. "If nothing, we can at least say that we tried."

"Yes, that's right," the Innkeeper whispered back. "And I say we did a darn good job."

They held hands as they walked up the stairs, so tightly that they thought they would snap.

"Good night," the Innkeeper said as they parted.

"Good night."

Somehow, expecting death made it that much less painful. And knowing that it would help the town made it even less so.

 

There was twice as much blood on the Serial Killer's knife that right. But, as blood rarely ever does, none of it helped him in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to write only fics/original works centered around ladies (except for finishing my multichaps) in honor of Women's History Month, so the Innkeeper was changed from a man to a woman so I could write this.


End file.
